We spent the night in Mandavgane's house. The city was burning. The scenes that I saw from the terrace made me indescribably desolate.
Before the dawn, we rose and did our ablutions, to be ready to move into the deserted house. Suddenly there was a gunshot very close to the house, Mandavganes hid inside, in the darkness of the house. My entire body from the throat down felt parched; legs, as if, dissolved. I and the uncle went forward, there were two English soldiers. We prostrated ourselves on the earth before them and said: we are not from Jhansi. We came from the South, to make some money. Spare our lives.
They figured out, from our speech, that we were not from this country. Then they asked for money and rifled our belongings. Rs 250 in coin were wrapped into a kerchief bundle, it fell down and made noise. The soldiers took it and left us (alive), by our luck.
We went to the deserted house. The recesses were full of men and women. Outside, hundreds of muskets were going off. It was very hot, it being the month of Vaishakh. Around noon, I was terribly thirsty. There was a lull in the musket fire, so I ventured out to the well outside and drew a pitcher of water. As I downed it, there was a big explosion nearby. I dropped the pitcher and darted off, looking for the nearest recess with some room. Two women were hiding in one; I entered it, the women directed me.
Three of us sat crammed in that place. Our breasts touched. The woman next to me must about 18-20, I was myself 30-33. But we both feared for life, and hence felt no desire.
